I think I owe you an apology. Probably more than one, really, but this will have to do for now. They say it takes a big man to apologize, and I think I’ve got that part covered. It takes an even bigger man to admit his mistakes in person, but sheesh, I’m not Andre the Giant. This is the apology letter that I will never write to you directly, but will instead publish on the internet so I feel better about myself without actually having an intimate conversation that would require acknowledging real feelings or generating any resolution for you. My chosen online peers tend to affirm whatever I post, so this seems like a surefire winner for my self-esteem, which I know is what you would want for me, if you were around to read this. Not that you’re dead, just that you won’t see this since we’re not Facebook friends.
That’s probably the first thing I should apologize for – I’ve always talked down Facebook so that you wouldn’t join and I’d have the awkward situation of deciding whether to accept your friend request or not. “I’m not sure Facebook is for you, Mom, I think you need a .edu email address to get an account.” Sorry, that was pretty selfish of me, feel free to join Facebook anytime, though I’m not sure that Facebook is open to retirees yet – probably soon though!
Not just for breakfast, this treat is a great side for burgers or sandwiches. It also reheats well in the microwave for a tasty lunch or after-school snack. The granola provides a surprise texture, but bacon and sweet potatoes are the stars here.
Note: This is the first part of a series about the amazing contributions I’ve made to the American economy and a sort of biography of the things I’ve been paid for.
That’s where it all started for me, in the Great Oaks neighborhood of Rochester, Michigan. Back in the days when there were multiple editions of a newspaper each weekday, morning and evening. And of course, morning deliveries on both weekend days; the list of Sunday-only subscribers added a sizable boost to our family’s take.
I’m writing this letter to let you know that I’m breaking up with you.
I know, I know, breaking up by letter is weak and I wish I had the courage to tell you this stuff in person. But there’s so much I have to say, and my thoughts are better organized when I write them down. Plus, I’m afraid how you’ll react, or how you’ll make me react.
I want to just be friends. Cliche, certainly, but I think we can treat each other with friendly respect now that our relationship is over. We owe it to ourselves to be civil, because we have so many mutual friends and share so many activities, like second lunch, late-night snack, and the munchies, not to mention when we’ll be at the same holiday gatherings.
So why am I breaking up with you? There are many reasons, and the blame lies with me – it’s not you, it’s me.
I joked to someone about ten years ago that Michigan football was my religion, but now I wonder how much I was joking. There are many parallels between the fervor of sports fandom and organized religion. We use both religion and sports as excuses to do stupid things, get in arguments, and celebrate shared experiences with our fellow devotees. We act one way six days of the week, and then become different people when we attend on the weekend.
Faith, Hope and Love
The basis of any entity-follower relationship is adoration (love) that the follower feels for the entity. Churchgoers love their God, and football fans love their football team. Think that religious adoration is stronger than the love of a football fan? My Saturday experiences might argue otherwise.
I’ve been going to Michigan nearly my whole life, certainly as far back as I can remember. I’ve seen many great games, even though several of the great games ended up in Michigan losses: #1 Notre Dame 1989, #1 Miami 1988, #1 Florida State 1990, #7 Colorado 1994, and the list goes on. I’ve been at some great wins, too: Notre Dame 2011, the Virginia comeback game, blanking Ohio State 28-0, too many others to count. In other words, I’ve been a Michigan fan all my life, and I’ve been to many games at the Big House. Which brings me to my point.
For about twenty years now, I’ve been saying that my favorite moment each year is the moment I emerge from the tunnel in Section 3 at Michigan Stadium and see the green of the field(turf) for the first time. When you come through the relative darkness of the tunnel, the saturated colors of the end zones and player uniforms almost hurt your eyes, but it’s impossible to look away – it’s quite nearly breathtaking for the passionate football fan.